Last night, J.R. and I had to stop watching the Sox game to go pick Melanie up from the airport. (Yes! More visitors.) After some desperate flipping on the AM dial, we finally managed to pick up the game, which then proceeded to go in and out during the ride. Wait, why is Okajima out? Is it still 2-1? Did that guy get on first? Did they just say Paps picked the runner off? Seriously? We arrived at the airport with one out in the top of the ninth, and Melanie's plane had just landed. I knew she would understand, however, so J.R. drove around the parking garage until we go decent reception, and we listened to the glorious final outs.
And then we went to fetch Melanie, and we knew by all the Sox hats which was the plane from Boston.
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